All language subtitles for Sex and the City - S01E06 - Secret Sex

Two weeks ago,
I had my picture taken.

Look up.
Good, good.

It was a promotional
photo for my column,

scheduled to run
on the side of a bus.

I had misgivings.

Which were somewhat
mollified

when they told me
I could keep the dress.

Friday night.

In lieu of any actual
social life of their own,

Samantha, Miranda,
and Charlotte

had all stopped by

to live vicariously through
my first official date

with Mr. Big.

Carrie!

Oh, honey, it's fabulous.

Bravo!

It's tits on toast, baby.
But you make it work.

-Well, let's just say it,

it's the "naked dress."

I mean, you're obviously
gonna have sex with him tonight.

Come on,
it's our first date!

She's not gonna
have sex.

She's just gonna
look like sex.

That's right,
I'm just the trailer.

Please, if it happens,
it happens.

Bottoms up.
-Wait a second.

Ooh...

I thought you were serious
about this guy. You can't

sleep with him
on the first date.

Oh, God, here she goes again
with "the rules."

The women who
wrote that book,

they wrote it because
they couldn't get laid.

So they constructed
this whole bullshit theory

to make women who can
get laid feel bad.

But if you're
serious about a guy,

then you have to keep
him in a holding pattern

for at least five dates.

Oh, you've gone up.

Yes, because
the number of dates

that you wait to
have sex with a man

is directly proportional
to your age.

Forget the math.

Just don't fuck on
a first date, you're fine.

-Third date.
-Too soon!

Reality check.

A guy can just as
easily dump you

if you fuck him
on the first date

as he can if you
wait until the 10th!

When have you ever

been on a 10th date?

And by then at least you're
emotionally involved.

Exactly. I mean,

isn't it better
to find out if the sex

is good right off the bat,

before anybody's
feelings get hurt?

But it's okay to
have hurt feelings.

And you always handle
those so well.

Well, there is something
to be said for restraint.

When did you
become such a Victorian?

The Victorians were
on to something.

They valued romance.

True romance cannot
exist without good sex.

And yet you can have
good sex with someone

you don't like or respect.

Or even remember.

Alright, well, ladies,
I'm just going to dinner.

Goodnight.

Bye, have fun.

Bye.

The truth is, I was dying
to sleep with him.

But isn't delayed gratification

the definition of maturity?

Interesting dress.

Meaning?

Interesting dress.

Don't worry. I'm perfectly
capable of restraining myself.

So am I.

I can't be hemmed in by rules.

I go with my emotions.

I mean, some of the greatest
romances of all time

began with sex on
the first date...

I bet.

I will not be
the first one to speak.

And if he never
calls me again,

I'll always think
of him fondly...

As an asshole.

That was really...

I mean, can you believe we,
on the first date?

I mean, I didn't
plan that, you know. I...

What do you think?

Well...

-Oh...

Uh, I thought it was
pretty fucking great.

But what do I know?

You feel like
having some Szechuan?

Had Mr. Big
discovered my weakness

for great sex
and greasy Chinese?

Or was going out to dinner

simply a diversionary
tactic to keep me

from spending the night?

Before I was able to completely
indulge my paranoia...

It was my pal, Mike Singer.

We've known each other
for ten years,

but never had sex,

because we want to know each
other for another ten years.

Hey!

Carrie, what are you doing here?

-Well, I'm with, umm...
-Oh, that's him.

No, no, I'll tell you all about
it later. I'll tell you later.

-You look great.

-Not too naked?
-Uh...

Just naked enough.

Hmm...

Hi, I'm Carrie Bradshaw.

I'm an old friend of Mike's.

I'm Libby Biyalick.

It's so nice to
finally meet a friend.

So, I'll call you.

Okay, great.
Well, have a good dinner.

Nice to meet you.

I left the table wondering why

Mike didn't want to
introduce me to his date.

Jab, cross! Again! Jab, cross!

That very same night,

something absolutely
amazing happened to Miranda.

Come on! Jab, cross, kick!

Oh my God, oh my God!
I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.
I didn't mean--

She met someone in gym class.

Are you...?
Oh, God.

Are you sure you're okay?

I'm fine, really.

So, what exactly about
my head pissed you off?

I wish there was
something I could do.

Well, you could buy
me dinner sometime.

-And a CAT scan.

His name was Ted Baker.

He was 32 years old,
a sports medicine doctor

with an apartment overlooking
the Natural History Museum.

Three prior serious
relationships,

none resulting in marriage.

A kiss to make it better.

So, really,
can I call you sometime?

Sure.

He left a message on
my machine when I got home.

He wants to go out
this week.

Hey, that's fantastic!

No, it's too quick.

I think maybe that
kick in his head
scrambled his brains.

No, too quick is sleeping
with him on the first date.
That's too quick.

You both got excited
and you went for it.

Stop blaming yourself.

No, I don't blame myself.

-I blame the dress, the dress.

The dress led me on,
it had a life of its own.

Oh, then we went to this
Chinese restaurant afterwards,

and you'll never
guess who I ran into.

-Who?
-Mike Singer, out on a date.

The whole world's in love.

Oh. I'm not sure, I don't know.
He was acting

very weird. Like, he, uh...

like he didn't want me
to meet her or something.

What's her name?

Her name was Libby Biyalick.

Mike told me everything
that afternoon,

while I helped him
pick out sheets

at Bed Bath & Beyond.

So, how long have
you been seeing her?

A while.

-Is this a painful topic?

No, it's just, she's not
someone I date openly.

Why, is she married?

No.

Is she a cousin?

No.

Look, the thing is,
she's smart,

she's incredibly sweet,
and the sex is great.

Well, she's just not
the one I see myself with.

Why not?

It was about
three months ago.

Mike had been dumped
by Fiona Brooks,

a cellist for the Philharmonic,

who he was trying to forget
as quickly as possible.

They had both loved to cook,

and shopping for the week
was a Saturday morning ritual.

So he was feeling
particularly vulnerable when...

Care to try some aged
sheep's milk cheese

from the Tyrolean Alps?

Thanks.

Mmm, it's good.

It's made by monks.

-Really?
-Trappist monks.

Fresh goat cheese from
the Napa Valley.

It's delicious.

L'explorateur.

It's a triple
crème from France.

Mike found himself
very uninhibited.

Since he didn't think
Libby was that gorgeous,

there wasn't any pressure.

The next morning,
he woke up and felt at ease,

very relaxed.

I'm a creative director
of an ad agency,

but eventually I'd love
to have my own shop.

I'd love to have
my own shop, too.

Well, cheese shop, I mean.

She was one of the only
women he'd ever met

who he felt he could
just be with.

So what's the problem?

Look, she's not beautiful,

and we don't have
a lot in common.

I mean, you know, most
of her friends are in dairy.

But she's
warm, and unpretentious,

and it is the best sex
I've ever had in my life.

What are you afraid of?
What other people
are going to think?

Look, all I know is that

she's not the right woman
for me in the larger sense.

So I keep her a secret.

I couldn't decide
whether Mike was being

shallow or honest.

But the question
nagged me for days.

How many of us out there
are having great sex

with people we're ashamed to
introduce to our friends?

Have I ever had fabulous
sex with someone

I didn't want to admit to?
Hmm...

Mm. Did I ever tell you about
that jazz musician

who lived with
his mother in Queens?

Yeah, Alex.

What about the window washer?

The one who doesn't
wear any underwear?

I met this gorgeous kid
in Spy Bar last year.

He turned out to
be in high school.

Evidently, Samantha
had had lots of sex,

none of which was secret.

Fine, it just proves that
I'm not ashamed of anyone

who I've slept with.

Okay, here it is.

Up here.

Oh, you look--

Naked.

There it was,

the dress that lead me down

the garden path with Mr. Big.

I shouldn't
be embarrassed?

No, you look fabulous!

Besides, there's no such
thing as bad publicity.

Yeah. You would say that,
you're a publicist.

You know, we need to go
someplace absolutely fabulous

where we can toast you,
where the bus goes by.

And you can invite Mr. Big.

No, no, I don't think so.
I haven't heard from him

since we spent
the night together.

Oh, sweetie, forget about him.

You are going to be on
the side of a bus.

Ten million men are going
to be drooling over you

every morning on
their way to work.

It's the best personal ad
I've ever seen in my life.

Samantha had a particular knack

for turning a desperate
situation into a hopeless one.

Oh, speaking of secret sex,

did Charlotte ever tell
you about the rabbi?

The rabbi?

Excuse me?

You know who I'm
talking about.

I cannot believe that
the two of you came down here

to interrogate me at work!

I'm sorry, it's my fault.

Anyway,
he wasn't a rabbi.

He was a Hasidic folk
artist from Brooklyn.

Close enough.

Evidently, Charlotte
had seen Shmuel's work

in an exhibition,

and scheduled an appointment
to meet him at his studio.

These are outstanding,
so much life.

You have a beautiful
way with light.

Thank you.

Now this one is really special.

That's my Yeshiva.

I wanted to capture
the exuberance of youth.

Charlotte quickly became
intoxicated by his talent,

his strangeness
and the smell of his wool.

Magical.

It was so sexy, so forbidden.

Daddy's little
Episcopalian princess

in the arms of one
of God's chosen people.

We would talk about art
and sex and the Torah.

Well, why didn't you
introduce him to anybody?

I was embarrassed.

I mean, I couldn't
really date him.

And he couldn't date me.

I mean, what would people think?

If the sex is good,
who cares what anybody thinks?

Now you cannot put
this in your column. Promise?

I promise.

Was secret sex the ultimate
form of intimacy,

since it existed
in a pure state,

exempt from the judgment
of the world?

Or is it just another way in
which we deny our feelings

and emotionally
compartmentalize our lives?

Hello?

Do you miss me yet?

Who is this?

How've you been?

Oh, great.

Fabulous, fantastic actually,
and you?

Well, at the risk
of sounding trite...

I haven't been able to
stop thinking about you.

I adore trite.

Listen, we should have
a real first date.

You know, the traditional
American type.

Dinner and a movie.

Of course, knowing us,
we'll skip the movie.

Just as long as we
don't skip dinner.

What a relief.

I had just escaped the sex
on the first date curse.

Whew!

That weekend, I was out
with a man whose name

I wanted to shout
from the rooftops.

Let me get this straight,

your picture is going
to be on a bus?

That's right.

A cross town bus,
or a downtown bus?

The M2.
It goes right down Fifth.

That's a good line.

I'm getting together
a group of my friends

tomorrow afternoon
to watch it go by.

I thought, maybe if you
weren't doing anything--

Hey, how are you?

Hey, how are you?
It's good to see you.

-You remember Phyllis.
-Of course, Phyllis.

-How are you?
-Everything good?

Yeah, everything's dandy.

Well, that's what I hear.

-So, uh, good to see you.
-Good to see you again.

-Good seeing you.
-Bye-bye, cheers.

-Who was that?
-Just some guy

I skied with in Aspen.

I didn't understand.

Had I suddenly become
the invisible woman?

I tried not to let it
bother me.

I also tried not to
let it bother me

that he took me
back to Fung Wa,

scene of our
post-coital dinner.

Oh, I can't make
your party tomorrow.

Oh, no.

I wanted to introduce you
to some of my friends.

Well, I'll be home
later if you miss me.

As I surveyed the room,

I realized it smelled
like a cheap date

you don't want
anyone to meet.

I told Mr. Big
I was on a deadline

and I had to get home.

-Hello?
-Listen, I have a question.

Of all the restaurants
in Manhattan,

why did you take
Libby to Fung Wa?

Well, it's pretty obscure.

Not much of a chance of
running into anybody I know.

So, you mean
it's the kind of a place

that men take women
they don't want to be
seen with in public?

Yes, it is perfect for that.

Oh, sorry.

The evidence was mounting.

Was it possible
that I had become

Mr. Big's secret sex girl?

The next morning,

Miranda discovered a shocking
sex secret of her own.

She had just spent a
wonderful night with Ted,

who had to leave early
in the morning

to catch a flight to D.C.
for a spinal conference.

I can go home, it's no big deal.

No, stay, it's 6:00 a.m.

I'll be back tonight.
Want to do something?

-I'd love to.
-Alright, I'll call you at work.

Have a good flight.

Miranda waited for
the dead bolt to drop,

and then used the opportunity
to ransack Ted's apartment

and look for pictures
of old girlfriends.

She was not at all prepared
for what she found.

Yeah? Do you feel
your cock where it wants to e
every night?

Every single night
when you come home

and everything's done
in the house

and I've been doing
it all day long...

I don't know what to do.

I can't admit to
having found this,

but now I don't know
if I want to see him again.

How can you judge him
until you spank him?

I'm only kidding.

But, I mean, obviously
this is what he's into.

Maybe it's just
his fantasy life.

Later that day,

the cream of New York
gathered to toast

the maiden voyage of my bus.

Where's Mr. Big?

Oh, he couldn't make it.

What do you mean
he couldn't make it?

I don't know,
it's a work thing.

Oh, but this is your bus party!

Oh, I told you,
you shouldn't have...

Well, never mind.

What, he's not here
because I slept with
him on the first date?

Basically, yes.
When you sleep with a man
on the first date,

the relationship will never be
anything more than just sex.

-Uh-huh.
Okay, thank you.

-Cheers!
-Cheers!

I didn't want to admit
that she was right.

Ah, here it comes,
here it comes!

I just wanted to see my bus
and get the hell out of there.

-Oh, shit.
Carrie!

-Hi, did I miss it?
-Hey! Hi.

Not yet, no.

Hey, I thought you were
going to bring Libby...

Oh, yeah. I finally asked her
to join me in public

and she turns me down.

Why?

She told me that she
met somebody else

who doesn't have
my problems with intimacy.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Uh! Quiet,

here you come!

Ohh...

Aw, don't worry, sweetie,
don't worry. Eh...

Nobody in New York
notices a bus

until it's about to hit them.

That's right.

Meanwhile,

Miranda spent another
wonderful evening with Ted

and began to re-evaluate
her options.

That was one of
the most amazing meals

I have ever had. Thank you.

My pleasure.

You know,
I missed you today.

-You did?

I guess I've just been
waiting all this time

for a good kick in the head.

And here I thought that
all you really wanted

was a good spanking.

Excuse me?

You heard me.

Oh.

Ted didn't take Miranda
home that night.

He never took her calls
or returned her messages.

And she never saw him
at the gym again.

Very late that night,

fueled by a massive
quantity of champagne,

I decided to say
goodbye to Mr. Big.

I just came here
to tell you that

if you're embarrassed
or ashamed

to be involved
with me in any way,

that we can no longer
see each other.

The truth is, I blamed myself.

I wore the naked dress
on our first date,

I slept with him too fast,

and now I'm on a Fifth Avenue
bus with a penis on my head.

What are you talking about?

You won't introduce me
to your friends,

you bring me back
to that restaurant

where men take women they
don't want to be seen with,

you won't come out
and meet my friends.

You have me in a niche.

Certain events,
certain restaurants,

certain people.

Like I'm only a particular
fragment of the kind of person

you think that you
should be dating.

But I've only gotten to know
a particular fragment.

Although, I'm beginning
to know more.

No, this is not me.

This is me reacting to
your perception of me.

Oh, okay.

Well...

I think Fung Wa's is

the best Chinese food

in the city, so that's
why we went there.

And, uh...

Oh... The guy we met
in the street,

I couldn't
remember his name,

which possibly means
I have Alzheimer's.

So that's what that was about.

And this afternoon
I had courtside tickets

to the Knicks,

and that's all folks!

I should have been
jumping for joy,

but I only felt
a hard knot of fear.

So you and me...

Then maybe
this is for real?

Could be...